She could not hear a word that was said distinctly, but she could distinguish Lady Mary's loud imperious tones, and then her mistress seemed to protest in a thin piping voice that only made the other more angry.
Then after a time, the heavy footstep came downstairs, and before she could get to the street door to open it, she heard it closed with a bang.
Then Alice went into the scullery to scour some dirty sauce-pans, and amused herself by singing a popular ditty at the top of her voice, which she was not always so free to do as she was this morning.
She had finished her scullery work, to her own satisfaction at least, and was tying on a clean apron preparatory to setting the dinner-table, when there came a knock at the door which she instantly recognized as Miss Molly's, and ran to open it.
"Thank you, Alice!" said Molly pleasantly, and then she went to the foot of the stairs and called: "We have come home, Mamma."
There was no reply from the upper room, and Molly remarked:
"She must have shut her door, I think."
"Have you been singing, Alice?" asked Annie.
"Just a little," admitted Alice, with a heightened colour. "But I didn't begin while the lady was here."
"The lady, what lady?" asked Molly quickly.
But Alice could only shake her head.
"Did she go up to see your mistress?" asked Annie.
"Yes, ma'am. She said she knowed the missis ever so long, and she did too, for I heard the misses say, 'Oh, Mary!' And then I come downstairs and let 'em have their row to themselves."
The two girls stood and looked at Alice in amazement.
"What do you mean?" said Molly angrily.
"I ain't saying no harm, Miss Molly, for it's true as I'm here that the lady and the missis had a jolly row, and then the lady went away, and I began my sauce-pans with that silver sand I bought of the man."
But while Molly was questioning and listening to Alice, Annie ran upstairs to her mother's room, and Molly and Alice both heard her calling, "Mamma! Mamma! Where are you? Where are you hiding?"
Molly ran up then, closely followed by the little servant.
"Well, if this don't beat all!" she exclaimed, as she stood staring in at the sitting-room door.
While the sisters went from bedroom to sitting-room and back again, looking, and calling, "Mamma! Mamma!"
"What sort of a lady was it who came? Was there a carriage at the gate?" asked Annie, wondering whether one of their old friends had called to take the invalid out for a drive, as the weather was so pleasant.
"There warn't no carriage, and the lady were too big for most," said Alice.
"Then it was Aunt Mary. But where can she have taken Mamma? Did you see the lady go out?" asked Annie.
Alice shook her head. "She were too quick for a little 'un like me. She was down the stairs and out of the house in a winking, before I could wipe my hands out of the dishes."
"And then did you hear my mother moving afterwards?" asked Molly.
"I jest heard nothing, Miss Molly, for I threw my dish-water away and began my scouring—"
"And singing too, I suppose?" said Annie.
"Yes 'm, I sung a bit, for I thought I couldn't hurt the missis or her head out there in the scullery; and I never heard nothing till I opened the door for you just now."
"You may go down now, Alice, and set the dinner things," said Annie.
The two sisters stood and looked at each other and the vacant room after the little maid had left them, each lost in wondering amazement, until Molly suggested that they should see whether her mother's bonnet had been moved out of the deep drawer of the wardrobe.
When her husband died, Mrs. Murray insisted that a widow's bonnet and mantle should be provided for her, although she was little likely to wear it. And now they saw that bonnet and mantle were both missing, so that, whatever Alice might say to the contrary, it was evident that Mrs. Murray had gone out, and she must have gone with Lady Mary on some important errand.
This was the conclusion the sisters arrived at, after talking the matter over. But they were none the less anxious about their mother, for what effect the unwonted excitement might have upon her they could not tell.
"I do wish we had not gone out this morning!" exclaimed Annie.
"I am sorry too; but who would have thought of Aunt Mary coming this morning? It was just because we were both out," concluded Molly, who went and sat near the window, instead of at the dinner-table, that she might catch the first glimpse of her mother coming along the road when she should return.
A SURPRISE FOR ARTHUR
"CAN I speak to you for a few minutes, sir, when I have distributed the letters?" asked Arthur, when Mr. Bristow came in, the morning after he and Molly had been for their walk.
"Oh yes, of course! Is it anything very important?" asked the gentleman.
"I hardly know what to think of it myself, and that is why I want to talk to you," replied Arthur.
And when the letter-bags were delivered, Arthur returned to the counting-house and found Mr. Bristow ready to hear what he had to say.
"I met my cousin last night, Lady Mary's son," explained Arthur.
And then he related as clearly as he could what had taken place the previous evening.
"You say he had taken too much to drink when you met him?"
"Oh yes! He could hardly walk. But I think a very little wine or spirits makes him like that," said Arthur, anxious to screen his cousin as much as he could.
"That matters little. The thing is, he did not know what he was talking about when he admitted that, if he did know anything of the missing letter, no one could prove it, and yet at the same time, he accused you of stealing the letter. The two statements contradict each other."
"Yes, they do," admitted Arthur. "But I should like to ask you, Mr. Bristow, whether you think I stole that letter?" And as he spoke, Arthur looked earnestly into the man's eyes as though he would read his answer there.
Mr. Bristow looked at him almost as earnestly as he replied: "Murray, I don't believe you know any more of that letter than I do!"
Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you for that word!" he said. "I can bear it for a bit longer now."
And the boy turned and went to his own desk, for his eyes were full of tears, and he did not want to let Mr. Bristow see them fall.
Mr. Brading was late before he came to his room that morning, but as soon as he came, Mr. Bristow went in to tell him what he had heard from Arthur. And they were still discussing the mysterious disappearance of the letter, when a messenger knocked at the door and announced that a lady was waiting to see Mr. Brading in his room downstairs.
"She is a real lady, sir," replied the man, in answer to the question, "What name?"
"I will be down directly," said Mr. Brading. And he followed the man almost immediately.
In the little downstairs parlour sat a thin, fragile-looking woman dressed in widow's mourning, who was evidently making a great effort to maintain her calmness, for Mr. Brading saw her lips quiver as she rose from her seat and bowed in greeting.
"My name is Murray," she said in a low, tremulous voice, "and I am the mother of Arthur Murray, who is in your employment."
She paused for a moment as if to gather strength and resolution for her next words, and then she said quite calmly: "My relative, Lady Mary Murray, has been to see me this morning, and she tells me that you have so grave a charge to make against my son that it will be necessary for me to remove him and send him out of the neighbourhood to avoid disgrace being brought upon our name. Will you tell me exactly what has happened, and all that Arthur has done? I am not sure that I can believe you any more than I could Lady Mary, but I want to know the worst, and at once," she added with a gasp.
Mr. Brading was afraid she was going to faint, and as soon as she had finished speaking, he rose and went to a cupboard in the corner, and the next minute was holding a glass of wine to her lips. "You must drink this before I answer one word, Mrs. Murray." He spoke in a commanding tone that helped the lady to gather all her forces to hear the terrible words that might blight all her hopes for Arthur's future.
When Mr. Brading saw that she was a little stronger, he said: "I wish I could explain all the mystery that surrounds the disappearance of Lady Mary's letter and cheque. But this I may say: that whatever suspicion I had of your son, and I admit that he has lain under this suspicion for some little time, still his behaviour through this trying ordeal, and something I heard from my man of business this morning, have completely cleared his character in my estimation, so that you may rest assured that I should be very sorry to part with him now. And I can only hope that you will not deem it necessary to remove him just yet, even if fortune should come to you. I have acted towards him as I hope someone would act towards my own son if he were placed in similar circumstances. Appearances were very much against him, and after my second interview with Lady Mary, I feared that I should be compelled to ask him to resign his situation. But on mature reflection, I deemed that if this stigma was ever to be removed from him, he had better remain where he was, and, however hard it might be for him, and myself too, we must each bear our share of the discomfort. Arthur has borne his bravely and well, although I can see it has been a very bitter trial to him."
"Thank you! God bless you, Mr. Brading!" said Mrs. Murray, rising.
But she spoke in such a tremulous tone, and seemed altogether so weak, that Mr. Brading replaced her in her seat, and, ringing his bell, he said to the man who answered it: "Order my carriage to be ready in ten minutes, and ask Mr. Murray to come to me at once."
"Now, Mrs. Murray, you must let your son take you home in the carriage, for I am afraid this interview has been altogether too much fatigue for you."
"I have not been out for two years," replied the lady. "But I have made up my mind, since I have been here, to turn over a new leaf, if it is not too late, for I might have done more than I have to help my children."
Then Arthur came in, but was so amazed to see his mother sitting there that for a moment he stood speechless. Then, going to her side, and laying his hand protectingly on her shoulder, he said: "Oh, Mamma! What is it? What have they been troubling you about?" And then, turning an angry face to Mr. Brading, he said reproachfully: "I would rather you had sent me to prison than drag my mother out here like this!"
"Arthur! Arthur! Mr. Brading had nothing to do with my coming here, and he has been most kind and considerate!"
"There, there, we will have an explanation by and by, Mrs. Murray. Compose yourself now, the carriage will be here in a minute."
And as he spoke, a messenger came to announce that it was at the door.
"Allow me to help you," he said, offering her his arm. "You drive back with your mother, and see that she is comfortable and easy in her mind before you return," said Mr. Brading.
He took Mrs. Murray by a private door and saw that she was comfortably placed in the carriage, while Arthur dashed upstairs to fetch his hat, scarcely knowing what he did in his haste, and the revulsion of feeling since Mr. Brading had spoken.
"Mother, how was it you came down here?" asked Arthur, as soon as they had driven off through the streets of the town. "Did you come by yourself? Why did Annie and Molly let you do it?"
"My dear, Lady Mary came this morning and told me such a dreadful tale of what you had been doing, that I don't think I quite knew what I was about until I found myself in that shop asking for Mr. Brading. But I wanted to know, Arthur, how much was true of Aunt Mary's story. I could not believe it all, dear, but to have to believe any of it almost drove me wild, and so I put on my bonnet and went out, and I don't think I shall go back and stay in my room again, for I fancy if I had always known about things, as I ought to have done, they would not have been so bad, and so I mean to try and come downstairs in the day and go out sometimes, now I have been able to take this long walk."
"This is good news, Mamma." For although to him, the walk from the cottage to the town did not occupy ten minutes, it was undoubtedly a long walk for Mrs. Murray.
The carriage drew up at the garden gate, and Arthur jumped out. But before he could lift his mother to the ground, Molly had opened the street door and was running down to meet them.
"Oh, Mamma! Where have you been?" she exclaimed.
"I can manage, dear, with Arthur's help," said Mrs. Murray, as Molly put her arm round her mother's waist to help her along.
Arthur was proud to feel his mother leaning upon him.
"Oh, Mamma, dear, mind you don't fall," said Annie, who also joined them before they came to the street door.
Mrs. Murray was very tired, and when the dining-room was reached, she said she would stay there for the rest of the day.
"I mean to turn over a new leaf, if I can, and take my part in the everyday life. I never thought I could do it, and so I never tried, but Lady Mary has taught me that I can help myself, and I am not likely to forget the lesson."
The sisters looked at each other and then at Arthur.
But after resting for a little while, Mrs. Murray ate a fairly-good dinner, and her cats were induced to come to the dining-room for the afternoon.
After waiting a little while to make sure that his mother was not likely to suffer any ill effects from her adventure, Arthur went back to the office in high spirits, and quite ready to forgive Lady Mary her share in what had been done, for if it was the means of rousing his mother to make some exertion, it would be worth all it cost. Even the trouble over the missing letter Arthur would not grudge, if this was to be the result.
The doctor had told them again and again that Mrs. Murray could walk and take her part in the everyday life of the household. But she had protested that she could not, until they thought the doctor must be mistaken and that it was something more than mere nervousness that ailed her.
By the time he got back to his desk, he had made up his mind that the doctor was right after all, and that now they would have to let the mother who had always been screened and protected from all care and household worry take her share in the pleasures and duties of life once more, and he resolved to take her out for a walk every evening.
But first he must thank Mr. Brading for his courtesy and kindness to her, and so he went to his room and told that gentleman that his mother seemed better, rather than worse, for her adventure.
"I beg your pardon, sir, for speaking as I did downstairs. But when I saw my mother sitting there, and knew that only one thing could have brought her out, I felt I could endure anything rather than she should have come. For it is more than two years since she went out, except when she was carried to the carriage that brought her to the cottage from our old home."
Mr. Brading looked astonished. "You really mean she has been an invalid for two years?" he said.
"She has not left her own sitting-room upstairs since she was carried there," answered Arthur. "And we could not let her know for a long time that I was trying to earn my own living for fear it should upset her," replied Arthur.
"But her mother-love conquered her weakness. Well, well, I have heard of such cases before, and I hope this may be followed by a permanent improvement. As to what you said, why, it was just what I should expect under the circumstances. By the way, I saw Mr. Andrews this morning, and from what he told me, I am pretty sure that you had nothing to do with that missing letter. Whether Lady Mary's son tampered with it, is another matter. Mr. Bristow told me what you heard from your cousin last night, but whether any credence is to be attached to words spoken when a man is in that condition, I should not like to judge. But so far as you and I are concerned, the matter is at an end, and you had better come home and see Jack to-morrow and tell him all about it. He knows nothing at present except that he is forbidden to come to the shop until I give him leave."
"Thank you, Mr. Brading." And Arthur and his master shook hands as a token of the restored amity between them.
Arthur would have liked to run down and have a turn in the gymnasium, by way of letting off some of the excited happiness that throbbed through him, but he thought it would be better to have it out in work. So, after a word or two with Mr. Bristow, he seated himself at his desk once more.
He had not asked Mr. Brading what Mr. Andrews said. But in point of fact, that gentleman showed the letter that he had received the previous evening, with the exclamation, "A lad of such promise as that is worth working for, and I mean to get the chestnuts out of the fire, if I can!"
"But suppose you are mistaken in your estimate of this boy's character?" objected Mr. Brading.
"But I am not mistaken. I have not managed things for the Murrays without knowing them; and I have always said if they could only be induced to work, instead of idling their life away, there would not be much to complain of. Now, this lad has taken to work as a duck takes to water, and I tell you it will be his salvation."
"But work is not everything, my friend."
"That's true enough. But I have had the lad watched to see if he is following in the steps of his friend, Lady Mary's son, for they were pretty close friends when they were younger, and Arthur has no one to look after him but a couple of sisters about his own age. So I set a watch upon that new billiard saloon that all the lads are going mad over. Mind, I don't object to billiards as a game, if they would keep the drink away from it. But there it is. The drink is there, and Lady Mary's boy is tipsy five times a week at least. But Arthur Murray has never been seen there. He seems to spend his evenings at home or in taking a stroll occasionally. I have met him myself once or twice, either alone or with one of his sisters."
"Well, I hope you may be right," said Mr. Brading. And then he told the lawyer of the missing letter, and how Lady Mary suspected Arthur of taking it.
"By the way, it was a cheque of yours for five pounds that she had enclosed in the missing letter!"
"And you think this lad stole it?"
"So she supposes. You see, we have no direct evidence that the letter ever came into our hands, but if it did, Murray would have to hand it on to the department to which it was addressed."
The lawyer shook his head. "I don't believe Arthur touched it," he said. "He has no evening expenses to meet, and he was perfectly frank and open with me as to what you were to pay him. What I could afford for household expenses I stated, and there was no margin left for billiard saloons, and if he went there, some of my informants must have seen him, for they have seen his cousin often enough!"
This conversation with a cautious man like Mr. Andrews pretty well convinced Mr. Brading that, whoever the culprit might be, it was not Arthur Murray, and what Mr. Bristow told him simply confirmed his opinion. So, after the talk with Arthur, he resolved to end the affair by writing to Lady Mary to say that he would bear the loss of the money, and no more was to be said about it, as there did not seem to be much chance of the thief ever being discovered.
Mr. Brading thought he had ended the matter when he wrote this letter, but he reckoned without Lady Mary. She was still fuming and fretting over what she had heard from Mr. Andrews about the money being ready for her whenever her lawyer was ready to transact the necessary business. And now to hear that Arthur was not to be dismissed from his situation, made her boil with rage against the world in general and Arthur in particular. And she handed the letter to Adrian when he came in.
"Well, that's all right. You don't want any more than that, do you?" he said, tossing it back across the table to his mother.
"Indeed I do!" she said. "I want those Murrays out of the way. What do they want to stop here for, now the property is all wasted?"
"Oh, let the boy alone, and don't be a fool!" politely answered her son, with a sleepy yawn.
"It is my business and not yours, and so don't you interfere!"
"Very well, do as you like; but if you begin to stir up that dirty water again, I shall go to London and get out of it, though I did post the letter, for I have heard enough about it, and don't mean to be dragged into it again."
Lady Mary had heard this threat more than once lately, and so she only smiled in a fashion that made Adrian feel pretty certain that she intended to take some action that would necessitate his being called as a witness.
And so, when the servant went to tell him Lady Mary wanted to speak to him, she found his room strewn from end to end with clothes and boots and slippers, but he had gone!
In point of fact, he was on his way to London, for he knew he would not find it convenient to answer questions if too closely pressed. And so he thought a visit to his uncle just now would be better for himself, and for his mother too, if she could only think so—a truth she would learn later on, he feared.
A SHOCK FOR MR. ANDREWS
A FEW days after Mrs. Murray's walk to Brading's stores, as Arthur was on his way there in the morning, a respectable-looking man touched him on the shoulder and said, rather sharply, "Your name is Arthur Murray, I think?"
"Yes," answered Arthur, "but if you want to speak to me, I must ask you to walk my way, for I am in a hurry this morning."
"Plenty of time, young man. You are going to Brading's, I suppose? But they must wait, for you are my prisoner."
And as he spoke, he laid his hand upon Arthur's shoulder in a fashion that was more energetic than pleasant.
"What do you mean?" demanded Arthur, stopping short and facing round to the man.
"Oh, it's all regular! I have got the warrant here. It's for a cheque and a letter."
"There must be some mistake about this!" And Arthur looked up into the man's face so fearlessly and frankly that, instead of slipping the handcuffs on him as he had intended, he said:
"Well, now, look here. You go with me to the station quietly, and I dare say it can soon be put right, if you know you haven't handled it. But if you try any monkey tricks with me, why, I've got the bracelets here, and I'll soon have them on you."
"I give you my word of honour that, if you let me walk quietly by your side, I will not attempt to run away. Why should I? I tell you I know nothing of the cheque!"
"All right! And I tell you this, I hope you will be able to prove it," said the man in a more friendly tone.
And the two walked on together, the few people who passed them little thinking that Arthur was a prisoner and the stranger a detective.
It was not a very long walk to the police station, and as soon as Arthur reached it, the warrant for his arrest was read over to him, and the inspector in charge asked him if he wished to send a message to his friends.
"I should like to send a note to Mr. Andrews, the lawyer, to ask him to come and see me, and also to Mr. Brading's, to tell them why I cannot go there this morning. But I would rather not let my mother know what has happened just yet."
Arthur spoke very calmly, but he had turned deathly pale while he was speaking, for after all, it would not be so easy to prove his innocence, he feared.
The inspector told him he could come to the desk and write the notes himself, and a messenger should take them at once, and possibly the lawyer might be able to see him before the magistrate arrived, who would hear the case about twelve o'clock.
So Arthur wrote to the lawyer, stating what had happened, and at the same time, saying he knew nothing of the cheque. He wrote the other note to Mr. Bristow, saying he had been arrested and had sent for Mr. Andrews. Of course, this gentleman knew all about the affair, but was none the less astonished at the turn the business had taken.
"That Lady Mary has let her temper blind her!" he exclaimed half-aloud, as he commenced Arthur's task of sorting the letters.
When Mr. Andrews received Arthur's note, which was placed on the table of his own private room in the office, he was dumfoundered. He had heard from Mr. Brading something about a letter being lost, but he had not thought much of it. And to hear that the lad in whom he had begun to take so deep an interest had been arrested for the theft, was something so unexpected, so bewildering, that at first he could only sit and stare at Arthur's note, and wonder what his first step in the matter ought to be.
At last he sprang to his feet. "I shall know in a moment whether the lad is guilty or innocent," he said half-aloud. "It will be time enough to think what I shall do after I have seen him." And leaving word with Phillips in the outer office, as he passed through, that he should be back in an hour, he walked quickly to the police station.
"Good-morning, Rawlins! I hear you have Mr. Arthur Murray here. What idiot has done this?"
"You can see the warrant, sir," answered the inspector.
"I'll see that afterwards. I want you to let me see your prisoner here, in the full light of day."
"All right, sir! I will send for him from the cells."
And in a minute or two, Arthur came into the room, but he was looking so pale and woebegone that for a moment the old man's heart almost died within him, until Arthur lifted his eyes and looked straight into the old man's fearlessly and frankly.
Then Mr. Andrews stepped forward and grasped his hand.
"This is a nice kettle of fish!" he said cheerily.
"I don't want my mother to know, Mr. Andrews," said Arthur anxiously. "Have you heard that she is getting better, and able to come downstairs every day?"
"Glad to hear it," said Mr. Andrews, somewhat indifferently, for he had no great liking for Mrs. Murray. "The thing we have to consider is, how we are to get you out of this ugly business. Now tell me all you know about it. Mind, every bit! No keeping anything back!"
And Mr. Andrews led the way to the farther end of the room, where they could discuss the matter without being overheard by anybody.
Arthur related the story of the missing letter once more, and then told the lawyer what had happened the evening they had met, and what Adrian had said by way of accusation, and also that he had disposed of the cheque.
"You mean to say that he took the cheque out of the letter, and then sent it on empty?" demanded Mr. Andrews.
"He didn't say so," answered Arthur. "What he said, as nearly as I can remember, was this: 'If I had the cheque, you had the letter!' But no letter came to us, so far as we can discover."
While he was speaking, Mr. Brading came into the room, and Mr. Andrews went to meet him.
"This is a nice state of things," said the lawyer, in a tone of vexation.
"I can assure you, I have had no hand in it," said Mr. Brading. "I would willingly give fifty pounds to have the matter satisfactorily cleared up, and I wrote a few days ago to Lady Mary Murray and told her I would bear the loss of the money, although I did not believe that the letter had ever reached us. Still, rather than have any more annoyance over the matter, I intended to let it drop and be forgotten, unless some further development in the future made it necessary to enquire further."
Mr. Brading sighed as he thought of all the worry and vexation this had already cost him, but he walked over and shook hands with Arthur. "You must keep up your courage, you know," he said heartily. "Circumstances may seem to be against you, but we shall get at the truth some day. By the way, it was a cheque Lady Mary received from you that was stolen!" suddenly exclaimed Mr. Brading. "Lady Mary told me all about it the last time she called. She says she could not find her own cheque-book just when she wanted it, and having received a cheque from you for five pounds, she endorsed it, enclosed it in the letter she had written, and gave it to her son to post!"
"Was there ever such a fool!" exclaimed the lawyer. "Why, she must know that her lad has been the town talk for months! Ever since that new billiard saloon has opened its doors, he has haunted the place. Morning, noon, and night, I am told, he might be seen there. Don't you think she must have known it? Where did she suppose he spent his time?" exclaimed the lawyer, in an exasperated tone.
"Well, it might be worse," said Mr. Brading. "For, being your cheque, there will be the less difficulty in tracing it," he continued soothingly.
So it was arranged that when Arthur was brought before the magistrate, he should be asked to adjourn the case until the next day and accept bail for Arthur, that he might be released at once.
This arrangement they were fortunately able to carry out, so that at dinner-time Arthur was on his way home, having made arrangements with Mr. Andrews to be at his office by three o'clock that afternoon.
Molly was helping Alice, the maid, to set the dinner-table when he arrived, and as she saw him going to the door she ran and opened it.
"Whatever is the matter, Arthur? Are you ill? Have you got the headache?" asked Molly, without waiting for one question to be answered before another was asked.
"I don't feel very well, and so I have come home to dinner," answered Arthur, with a smile at his sister's curiosity.
"But that isn't all," she answered quickly. "You need not think you can deceive me, Mr. Arthur," she whispered. "I know there is something the matter, but I won't tell."
This was said because Mrs. Murray and Annie were coming downstairs, and the next minute they came into the room.
"You had better lie down and have a sleep for an hour," said Mrs. Murray, looking across at Arthur.
"I have to call at Mr. Andrews' office at three o'clock," said Arthur.
"Did you meet him again?" asked Molly.
But Arthur was giving all his attention to his mother just now, and would not hear what Molly was saying, until she insisted upon his giving his opinion upon a question she had to propose.
"Arthur, don't you remember what we used to say when we were little children about finding a thing giving the right to keep it?"
"Oh, never mind about that now!" said Arthur. "If you have found that sixpence I lost upstairs last night, you may keep it."
"But suppose somebody else found it?" proposed Molly.
"Oh well, if Alice found it, she may keep it!" said Arthur in a weary tone.
"Molly, do let him have a little peace," put in Annie. "You can see he looks tired. Have your dinner, Arthur, and go and lie down until a quarter to three; that will give you time to reach Mr. Andrews' office by three o'clock."
And Annie took care to serve her brother first.
Arthur was glad to take the hint and have a quiet hour in his own room.
At three o'clock he was at Mr. Andrews' place of business, and was about to pass quickly through the outer office, as there were several people sitting on the bench waiting, when the senior clerk, Phillips, stopped him.
"Wait one minute, Mr. Arthur," he said. "The governor has something to finish for the next post, and he asked me to detain you here for a moment until his bell was rung. Do you know any of those people?" whispered Phillips, glancing in the direction of the bench. "Look round in a minute, as though you were looking at the picture on the wall opposite," said the old clerk.
Arthur looked round for a minute at the picture, and then glanced at the strangers on the bench. But before he could speak again to Phillips, Mr. Andrews' bell rang, and the clerk stepped forward to fetch the letter and announce the arrival of Arthur.
The lawyer's question, when Arthur went into the room, somewhat startled him. "Do you know any of the people out there?" he asked.
"No, I never saw them that I know of," answered Arthur.
"Very well, sit down here, at the end of the table, for a minute," said the gentleman.
And he pointed to a chair in which, as he sat, the light of a broad bay-window fell full upon his face.
Then Mr. Andrews touched his bell again, and one of the strangers walked in.
"Will you tell me where you saw this gentleman last?" asked the lawyer.
"I never saw him until to-day," answered the young woman promptly.
"But I thought you told the police that you changed a cheque for Mr. Murray a week or two ago?" said the lawyer.
"Yes, sir! But this is not the Mr. Murray I meant. The one that came into our shop, and got a post office order for three pounds, and gave me one of your cheques, was much shorter and thinner—quite a little man! I changed the cheque at the stationery counter, and then gave him the post office order."
"What is that about a post office order?" almost roared Mr. Andrews. "You never said a word about the post office order before!"
"No, sir, I forgot it," said the young woman meekly. "The policeman flurried me so with the lot of questions he asked, but Father said I must remember to tell you everything this time."
"I should think so indeed," commented Mr. Andrews. "Then you do not know this gentleman?"
"No, sir, I don't think I ever saw him before."
"Thank you, that will do! Mr. Phillips will tell you what to do to-morrow. Good afternoon, Miss Sims! Be sure you get to the court in good time."
"Yes, sir," answered the meek-voiced woman. And then she went, and closed the door behind her.
The next minute a young man came in, and he was asked if he knew Arthur.
"Never set eyes on the gent before," replied the young fellow briskly. "He don't look the sort that comes to our market. Our Mr. Murray was a little, weazel-like chap. Thought he knew a thing or two more than most of us, and we let him think so, as it paid the saloon well to. No, bless you, he isn't a bit like our Mr. Murray," concluded the young fellow.
"Thank you!" put in Mr. Andrews at this point, for, having got the evidence he wanted for the next day's examination, he did not wish to waste his time on gossip.
Then another man came in, and the moment he began to speak, Arthur recognized the voice of the cabman who had taken his cousin home the night the roughs were robbing him, and who afterwards took Arthur back to the town instead of driving the cab there empty. And this he was prepared to explain to the lawyer first, and to the magistrate the next day, if it was necessary.
But while Mr. Andrews was questioning this man, Phillips knocked at the door, and with a whispered word to his master gave him a note.
"It's from Simmons' people, and they want to withdraw the case against Mr. Arthur Murray."
"What? After having him arrested like a thief in the open street? Do they suppose we are going to stop the case to please them? No, no! My lady has insisted upon having this affair fully investigated, and so do I now. If she had not stirred in it, we should not. But the inquiry must go on now. Simmons' people may tell the magistrate they want to withdraw the case, but I shall insist upon my witnesses being heard before it is done. Charges have been made against my client here, and now I am fully prepared to disprove them, and clear his character once and for all; and nothing shall prevent me from doing it either!" added the lawyer in a determined tone.
"That's only fair and just," commented the cabman. "We can't none of us afford to lose our characters," he added, with a nod at Arthur.
"No; this lad needs a good character to be his mainstay through life as much as you or I do, and I mean to defend it," said the lawyer.
There was a little more talk, and then the cabman was dismissed with a word of advice as to the time he should be at the court the next day.
As the door closed, Mr. Andrews grasped the lad's hand. "It is plain sailing now, my lad," he said. "You can go home and tell your mother all about it without the least fear of what will happen to-morrow."
"But there is the post office order to account for. You remember the young woman said that Cousin Ted changed the cheque for five pounds, and then had a post office order for three pounds!"
"To be sure she did," answered Mr. Andrews. "But that point can rest for the present. You are charged, not with stealing a post office order, but a particular cheque for five pounds. I shall, of course, bring forward this point, but it will not affect our case. We can prove your innocence of the charge made against you, and that will be enough for the present."
TURNING THE TABLES
ARTHUR went to the police court in good time the next morning, hoping to be able to talk to Mr. Andrews before he was called to stand before the magistrate. He was not satisfied with the lawyer's suggestion that nothing should be said about the post office order and missing letter. While the matter was about, he wanted the whole of it cleared up, if such a thing was possible.
But he found that Mr. Andrews was engaged in talking the affair over with Lady Mary's solicitor, for nothing less than an entire withdrawal of the charge against Arthur, and an ample apology for having made the charge, would satisfy Mr. Andrews.
At length Arthur managed to gain admission to the room where the lawyer's conference was being held.
"Good-morning, my lad!" said his friend, turning his heated face to meet him. He had just got his opponent to agree to his demands, and was flushed with the sense of victory over a keener man than himself.
"It's all right, Mr. Murray," he said in a whisper. "The proceedings will be very formal to-day. Mr. Simmons is well enough to come and see to things himself, and we shall soon have it over."
"But I hope you will speak about the missing letter and post office order. Let us get it all cleared up while we are about it. You know, Adrian said, 'If he had the cheque, I had the letter', and that was what he must have meant—that I had stolen the post office order for three pounds, while he had only two out of the cheque. He may have thought he had a right to take that, as he wanted it and it was his mother's money," said Arthur, by way of excuse for his cousin.
"Well, that may be so, but it does not excuse Lady Mary from charging you with stealing the cheque. I will mention the postal order, and clear your character while we are about it."
So when Arthur was called to stand in the dock once more, it was only to hear Mr. Simmons state that by desire of Lady Mary, he wished to withdraw the charge and all imputation upon the character of Mr. Murray, and also to offer an apology for the distress and inconvenience he had suffered through this charge being made against him.
Then Mr. Andrews had a word to say. In accepting the apology, and consenting to the withdrawal without calling his witnesses, who could prove Mr. Murray's innocence of all complicity in this theft, he had to say that the matter was not wholly cleared up, as the letter containing the post office order was still unaccounted for. But it was reasonable to suppose that the person who took the cheque, and bought the post office order for three pounds, afterwards repented this step, and deciding that he had a right to the use of all the money, did not post the letter as he had stated, but converted it to his own use, as they knew now that he owed several debts in the town.
"Of course the post office order can be traced, and we shall endeavour to find out who changed it, if it has been changed, but it will not be found that Mr. Arthur Murray had anything to do with it," concluded the lawyer.
This was the way in which Mr. Andrews turned the tables on Lady Mary, for the magistrate admitted in his speech that nothing was more likely than that the suggestion Mr. Andrews had made was the true solution of the mystery concerning the disappearance of the letter. He then assured Arthur that he left the court without the slightest stain upon his character, and congratulated him on being able to prove his innocence of all share in the theft.
No names were mentioned, and Mr. Simmons could not say a word against the letter being spoken of, but it annoyed him exceedingly, for he had seen Lady Mary, and she had expressed her opinion that Arthur could still be charged with stealing the letter and post office order. She was not in court, or she might have made the charge there and then, and declared, what in truth her blind prejudice had made her believe, that Arthur had prompted her son to cash the cheque, and had shared in the proceeds of both cheque and post office order, quite ignoring the fact that a post office order must be signed by the receiver of the money. She would never have believed that her darling had touched it, if she had not received a telegram from her brother, more incisive than polite, telling her not to be a fool and stir up dirty water, before she received a letter from him.
If this telegram had reached her ladyship a few hours earlier, Arthur would not have been arrested, but by the time Mr. Simmons received it, Arthur was in the cells, and Mr. Andrews was hunting up the necessary evidence to prove his innocence, which so seriously compromised Adrian.
The fact was, when Adrian rushed off to London to get out of the way, he found that his uncle asked so many questions as to the reason for his sudden arrival that he had to make a clean breast of the whole matter, and admit that he had cashed the cheque to pay a debt for which he was being pressed. Upon hearing this, Lord Lismore telegraphed to his sister, and wrote, saying that the culprit was Adrian himself, but that she was to blame for keeping the lad idling at home when he ought to be preparing himself for some useful life.
"It will never do for him to come back to that place, where he seems by his own account to have got into bad company, but you must spend a little of the money upon him now, that you have been hoarding. It is all very well to try and leave the lad a fortune, but you would be showing him more true kindness, if you spent something in helping him to make his own, or at least putting him in the way of earning his living decently as honourable men do. The best thing you can do for the lad is to let him go into the army. He says he would like that better than anything else, and so it would be better to send him to an establishment where they prepare young men for passing the necessary examinations.""Of course you will have to spend some money, but you may as well do it in making him a useful man as let him waste it in loafing around billiard saloons, which seems to be all he has done lately."
Lady Mary went almost frantic as she read this letter, but she knew that what her brother said was true, and that she would have to give up what had of late years become the dream of her life, and let Arthur Murray succeed to his inheritance just when it was likely to become profitable.
The letter she received from Mr. Simmons made her the more willing to do this, for how could she prove that Adrian did not appropriate the whole of the proceeds of the cheque for his own use. One thing was certain, he could never show his face in Fairmead again, now that this had all been made public. And so she wrote to her brother, asking him to make the necessary arrangements for Adrian to be placed under the care of a suitable instructor to fit him for entering the army.
This was a fortunate thing for the lad, or he would inevitably have drifted from bad to worse, and from robbing his mother, he might have proceeded to rob others, and thus have entered upon a career of crime instead of having the chance to live a useful life.
Mr. Andrews was soon informed that the necessary deeds and securities would be handed over to him by Mr. Simmons at an early date, and the money he held to redeem them would be accepted by Lady Mary without further dispute.
The lawyer smiled at this, but he was willing to let it pass without comment, for he had little doubt that it had cost Lady Mary a good deal of pain to give up her plans for gaining all the Murray estate.
When Lady Mary wrote to her son, it was a reproachful letter, and accused him of robbing her of the whole cheque, but to this he quickly sent a reply, saying that he certainly did post the letter to Brading's, and that Arthur certainly must have had this post office order.
About the time when Lady Mary got this letter from Adrian, Mrs. Murray's little servant came to the dining-room one evening with a request. "Please, Miss Molly, my cousin has come to see me," she announced; "can I ask her into the kitchen for a bit?"
"Oh, certainly!" answered Molly.
And being of a curious turn of mind, she thought she would go into the kitchen about an hour later and see what sort of a person this cousin was.
She saw a girl about Alice's own age sitting at the kitchen table, and the girls had some dirty-looking papers spread out before them.
"Let me tell Miss Molly all about it," whispered Alice as she went into the room.
Molly could not help overhearing what was said, and, stopping at the table, she said: "Is it something you want to ask me, Alice?"
The cousin nodded, but seemed shy of speaking, and so she nudged Alice and nodded by way of telling her to explain matters.
"My cousin here has found a big lump of money," said Alice, plunging at once into the tale. "It's such a big lump that she don't know what to do with it, and so she has come to show it to me and ask me about it."
"Is it in bank-notes?" asked Molly, as she saw how carefully the stranger kept the papers before her covered with her hands.
Alice shook her head dubiously. "They're paper, sure enough," she said, "or Hester wouldn't have found them."
"'Tain't often any of us get such a slice of luck as this," commenced the stranger, "though I has tons of paper through my hands every week."
Molly grew more curious. "Where did you find this treasure trove?" she asked.
But the girl shook her head. She did not understand what was said. "There's only one place I could find it—at the mill," she said.
"My cousin is a paper girl, Miss Molly. She is one of the sorters at Robinson's mill, and it was among the waste that she found this."
"It was a fair find," the stranger hastened to explain.
"Yes, ma'am, Hester wouldn't be doing no shabby tricks to get hold of it," commented Alice.
"Yes, it's just as fair as can be, and I don't mean to be done out of it. The forewoman might think she ought to have her share, if she knowed what I'd got, so I just put it in my pocket and brought it up to ask Alice about it."
"Of course, if you could find the owner, you would take it to him?" said Molly.
The girl opened her eyes. Evidently she had never thought of doing that, and her eyes fell when Molly said that this was the only right and straightforward thing she could do.
"What would he give me for it?" asked the girl.
"I really cannot say," replied Molly.
"We always used to say findings keepings," said Alice, as though this was the law that might be expected to apply to the case they were discussing.
But Molly shook her head. "That would not be honest," she remarked, "and I am sure you are not a dishonest girl."
"No, ma'am, but I don't want to be cheated out of my fair find."
"Of course not! What you want to do is to find out who the rightful owner is, and hand it to him. You know it may have caused a great deal of trouble to somebody, the loss of this money, I mean, and so if we could find out who ought to have it, I am sure they would give you something for it."
As Molly was speaking, the girl slowly withdrew her hands, and pushed the dirty-looking papers towards her. "Perhaps you can find out what I ought to do with them," she said rather sullenly.
Molly started, and an eager look came into her face the moment her eyes fell upon the soiled envelope, for she recognized at once the coronet used by Lady Mary on all her stationery. She almost seized the papers as the girl pushed them towards her. There could be no doubt that this was the missing letter. The address on the envelope and the note inside were in her aunt's handwriting, and there was a post office order in it for three pounds.
She almost trembled with excitement as she held these in her fingers, but she had to keep calm and reserved before the girls, and so she carefully looked at all the papers before she ventured to speak, for fear she should betray her anxiety by the tremor in her voice.
At last she said, "I can tell you now exactly what you must do with this letter and the post office order inside. They were sent by a lady to the tailoring department of Brading's, the large stores in the London Road. You must take it there and tell them where you found it."
But the girl shook her head. "'Tain't likely they'll believe me; they'll just say I stole it."
"No, no; you do not look like a girl who would steal," said Molly. And this was true, although if she had committed the theft, she could scarcely look more frightened than she did at Molly's proposal.
"I wouldn't mind you taking 'em, miss. You'd know what to say to 'em, but I ain't used to talking to gents."
Molly was puzzled, but she kept the papers in her hand, and at last she thought of a way out of the difficulty.